


Angel on Call

by Ranger_of_Estel



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 13:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11487495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranger_of_Estel/pseuds/Ranger_of_Estel
Summary: S5 E7 (Wine Dark Sea)Sara and MIcheal's reunion from his POV





	Angel on Call

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Prison Break is hard because I don't feel like I can accurately portray his brilliance.  
> But I was just so moved by this moment, him breaking as she touched him...I had to try at least.

* * *

                Michael wakes with a jerk, pain searing through his abdomen as he falls back into the bed. He keeps his eyes tightly closed in an effort to minimize the spinning of the room around him. Everything aches and his throat is dry. “Linc?” he doubts his brother can hear him, but he also doesn’t have the strength for anything stronger.

                Moments later the door opens, and he’s glad to hear his brother’s heavy footfalls. He focuses on breathing, knowing he is due for another painful wound cleaning. Some part of him realizes that the footsteps coming nearer are far too light to be his brother, and much too careful for Whip. But it’s the hand on his arm that forces his eyes open.

                Sara’s breathy “Hi,” reaching his ears, the blurry, glowing shape of her face, her smile. And then her hand is along the side of his face, voice unsteady “I missed you,” she leans closer. And it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He reaches up, pressing her hand against his face; proving that this is real. Not a hallucination like in Egypt, not a fevered dream like he’d gotten on the boat. But Sara, _his Sara_ , is with him.  He’s waited seven years for this moment, this reunion. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, not him dying, shuddering beneath her gentle touch. Not hiding in Greece, not without his son. He can feel the tears sliding down his cheeks. The hand on his shoulder slides into his free one, and he grips with has much strength as he can muster. Because it’s not the plan, not the way he wanted…but she’s here. And he has done nothing but fight, dreaming of the moment his wife was with him once more.

                His eyes have fallen shut again. But he can hear her sniffle, holding back her own tears in what he knows is an effort to show strength for his benefit. She leans up, pressing her lips to the top of his head; like at Fox River, like when he had brain surgery, a tender promise that she is at his side. “I’m gonna fix you up,” she whispers, the warmth of her breath touching his face. “And then we’ll talk, okay?”

                A nod is all he can manage, and it takes all of his focus, every drop of his remaining will to stay awake. To focus on her voice as she shifts away, moving the blanket down his body. “I’m going to make you okay.”

                Her hands move over the tie around his wound, pain surging through him as he reaches down to ward off her touch. “N-no.”

                “Shh,” she quiets him, small hands wrapping around both of his. “It’s okay,” One hand remains on his, but her voice tells him she’s turned away. “Hey, Lincoln, uh…would you pass me that coat rack?” she sniffles again, “Can I grab a chair?”

                “Yeah,” He hears Whip’s voice answer, and then she’s unzipping a bag near his head.

                “Thanks,” her voice is muffled, fading like everything else is again. Only to be brought painfully back into focus as she jabs him with a needle of some kind. He can’t help the pained gasp, is too tired to even follow his instinct to remove the object. He feels the pressure as she ties off his arm, the prick of the needle to the inside of his elbow. She’s saying something about a transfusion, about blood types, but he’s just so tired. “I’m right here,” there’s warmth over his hand again, a small comfort as darkness surrounds him once more. “I’m right here.” And he believes her, because if he trusts anything when he has nothing, it’s her.

* * *

                Michael wakes to the feeling of something against his arm, his groggy mind fighting until he recognizes it as slender fingers tracing up his forearm then back down to his hand. _Sara_. He forces his eyes open, taken the first real breath since the poison started. Turning his head she’s there, watching him with the same concern he’d seen so many times before.

                “Never thought I’d see this face again,” her hand stills, resting over his.

                “You weren’t supposed to,” he answers instinctively, kicking himself as her eyes drop, as she closes off.

                “Why?” she begins putting away the tubes from the I.V.

                He takes a long, slow breath, eyes drifting closed as she shifts slightly. Whispering, “I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But first I need something from you.”

                “Anything,” Her instant reply brings a fresh wave of adoration. Reinforcing her unconditional trust in him, her _love_ for him.

                His eyes return to hers, “A picture of my son.” And then she’s smiling, lighting up as she stands to get her phone out of a bag. “You’re not calling him Jr. are you?” He watches her move, soaking in all the little details that had begun to fade from his memory.

                She offers a breathy chuckle in return. “I promised you I would never do that.” she fiddles with the device as she sits next to him once more. Offering the phone to him, “He’s an amazing kid.” There’s a young boy with his arms wrapped around a yellow lab. Instinctively Michael knows he’s seven now. He’s got Sara’s hair, and though it’s hard to tell in the photo, it looks like he has her eyes as well. “He’s just like you,” She adds, and he can see her grin even with her chin resting against her palm. He can’t help his own smile, and she reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

                And for one infinite moment that’s all that matters. Sara is here, is living and free. And his son, his beautiful, brilliant boy, is safe. It doesn’t matter that he’s nearly died, that he’s considered a terrorist and hated. His _family_ is waiting, and he’ll walk through hell again to get there.

**Author's Note:**

> So I just finished Prison Break Season 5....and all of the Michael/Sara feels have come back full force.
> 
> Title inspired by his comment "I have an amazing Doctor on call."


End file.
